The end of my eighth grade year was when it first started. High school was just around the corner, but was I ready for it? Nerves took over my body, but why? James Wood High School was a whole new era, what was it that was frightening me? I knew the layout of the building fairly well, so that wasn't it. I was to have a locker next to my sister, so she would always be there to help me if I needed it. I had lots of friends going up with me, but it still wouldn't be the same. I needed to find something that would make me feel as if I belong to the school. Something to make me feel important, but still part of a family.
Walking through the hallways of middle school, with only a few weeks left until my next big step in my academic career was stressful. No one knew what to expect, we just had to go and see what happens. One day as I was walking to class, I saw a flyer on the wall advertising the James Wood High School Color Guard tryouts that were going to be held the following week. I was on the flag squad at the time and had briefly thought about joining the team the next year, but seeing that poster really made me think. I wouldn't be the only one trying out either. My four other friends, that are more experienced twirlers than I am, have been dreaming to be a part of the squad their freshman year, so why not give it a try?
All that was required to bring to the tryouts were tennis shoes and the practice flag they provided. I showed up the first day, as nervous as could be, thinking that I wasn't good enough to twirl anything other than a flag. Rifles, batons, hula-hoops, streamers, air blades, and anything else that could be incorporated into a routine were used by the high school guard. After learning that, all that was left to do was to memorize a basic flag routine and a small dance sequence at the end. We had to march in place with each sound of the beat until the last move was carried out.
I could do this. I brought my practice flag home every night to practice each section of the routine we learned that day. As the week progressed each newbie improved tremendously. That Friday, as soon as I got there, we all had to draw out of a hat to see who we would tryout with. My partner was my good friend Natasha. Her sister was on the squad, so she had more experience than the rest of us. This made me even more nervous because I would be compared to her, the graceful dancer and gymnast she has been for years. All of our peers wished us the best of luck as we left for the tryout room. When we entered, there was the two captains from the previous year, the guard instructor, and, worst of all, the intimidating band instructor.
I had been working on this routine for a week straight; I had it down flat, but that didn't mean anything. When my nerves over take me, anything could happen.
The beat of the jam block started and we were off performing the best we could. Making sure that each maneuver I presented was as sharp and clean as I could give it. My arms floated with grace as I stretched my arms out to the last position. I held it until I was told to release and that was it. A whole thirty seconds was all it took to make an impression that would affect my high school career.
The following Monday was the day that the results would be posted. I had made some friends along the way, so we were very anxious to find out if we made it or not. It turns out that we all made it. All six of us deserved to be on that team. This was it, this was going to be my new family. Not only the new girls, but the returning members of the team, plus the band members that we spend a majority of our time with. That is a total of over one hundred high school students that I would have some sort of connection with for not only that year, but for the next four years of my life. Whenever I needed a hand, there was always someone their to help. Between being at band camp for two weeks to going to competitions for the weekend, we all got along and were always there for each other. Without my band family, who knows where I would be today.
Walking through the hallways of middle school, with only a few weeks left until my next big step in my academic career was stressful. No one knew what to expect, we just had to go and see what happens. One day as I was walking to class, I saw a flyer on the wall advertising the James Wood High School Color Guard tryouts that were going to be held the following week. I was on the flag squad at the time and had briefly thought about joining the team the next year, but seeing that poster really made me think. I wouldn't be the only one trying out either. My four other friends, that are more experienced twirlers than I am, have been dreaming to be a part of the squad their freshman year, so why not give it a try?
All that was required to bring to the tryouts were tennis shoes and the practice flag they provided. I showed up the first day, as nervous as could be, thinking that I wasn't good enough to twirl anything other than a flag. Rifles, batons, hula-hoops, streamers, air blades, and anything else that could be incorporated into a routine were used by the high school guard. After learning that, all that was left to do was to memorize a basic flag routine and a small dance sequence at the end. We had to march in place with each sound of the beat until the last move was carried out.
I could do this. I brought my practice flag home every night to practice each section of the routine we learned that day. As the week progressed each newbie improved tremendously. That Friday, as soon as I got there, we all had to draw out of a hat to see who we would tryout with. My partner was my good friend Natasha. Her sister was on the squad, so she had more experience than the rest of us. This made me even more nervous because I would be compared to her, the graceful dancer and gymnast she has been for years. All of our peers wished us the best of luck as we left for the tryout room. When we entered, there was the two captains from the previous year, the guard instructor, and, worst of all, the intimidating band instructor.
I had been working on this routine for a week straight; I had it down flat, but that didn't mean anything. When my nerves over take me, anything could happen.
The beat of the jam block started and we were off performing the best we could. Making sure that each maneuver I presented was as sharp and clean as I could give it. My arms floated with grace as I stretched my arms out to the last position. I held it until I was told to release and that was it. A whole thirty seconds was all it took to make an impression that would affect my high school career.
The following Monday was the day that the results would be posted. I had made some friends along the way, so we were very anxious to find out if we made it or not. It turns out that we all made it. All six of us deserved to be on that team. This was it, this was going to be my new family. Not only the new girls, but the returning members of the team, plus the band members that we spend a majority of our time with. That is a total of over one hundred high school students that I would have some sort of connection with for not only that year, but for the next four years of my life. Whenever I needed a hand, there was always someone their to help. Between being at band camp for two weeks to going to competitions for the weekend, we all got along and were always there for each other. Without my band family, who knows where I would be today.